A tentacle coiled around his waist, lifting him just enough for his feet to leave the ground, while another slid along his back, tracing circles over his shoulder blades. Aldric closed his eyes.
"I… will not betray… my kingdom." But Damaris pressed her lips to his in a deep, invasive kiss, her draconic tongue entwining with his. The tentacle at his groin quickened, stroking him in a steady rhythm.
She broke the kiss. "Oh, but you've already done so more than once, and you'll do it again. For me."
With a gesture, she partially loosened the chains, letting Aldric drop to his knees before her. His bound hands instinctively reached for her hips. Damaris guided one of them to her already-wet sex.
"Touch me, paladin. Feel what you could have… if you cooperate."
Overwhelmed, Aldric obeyed. His fingers explored her hot folds, finding her sensitive center and stroking it.
Damaris threw her head back, her dark horns grazing the cavern ceiling.
"Mmmh… yes, like that."
A tentacle wrapped around his wrist, guiding his movements for deeper pressure. She leaned down, pressing her breasts to his face, and he captured a nipple between his lips, sucking greedily.
The pace quickened. Damaris rode his hand, her hips rolling, while her appendages held him in place—one now sliding in from behind to stimulate untouched places.
"Talk to me, paladin. Tell me about your kingdom."
"Valdris… neutral, but… trades with the elves…"
"Aahh… good boy."
Then she freed him completely from the chains, pushing him onto the rocky floor. Straddling him, she tore away the rest of his clothing, exposing his slick erection.
"Now take me. You'll tell me everything afterward."
Aldric obeyed. He thrust into her in one powerful motion, his hands gripping her ass. Damaris moved with him, her tentacles coiling around their bodies—one caressing his balls, another stimulating her breasts.
"Hrrngh… harder!" she ordered, her claws raking down his back, leaving bloody trails.
They rolled together, Aldric briefly pinning her, his brutal thrusts drawing moans from Damaris. Then she took control again, slamming her hips down onto him.
"Haa… rrgh!"
Aldric released inside her, his body trembling, while Damaris lay down over him.
She whispered in his ear, "See? War isn't necessary. Pleasure… unites."
---
Sylvara stopped behind a jutting rock, her breathing steady. The tracks she'd been following led to a makeshift camp nestled in a cove sheltered by low cliffs.
The orcs had lit a fire, its flames dancing in the growing darkness, casting threatening shadows over their hulking silhouettes.
The leader, a giant named Gorzak, stood at the center in leather armor. His axe rested against a rock as he tore into a chunk of raw meat ripped from some sea creature.
Beside him, the other three orcs—Krull, Varg, and Dren—were sharpening spear tips with knives.
Sylvara narrowed her eyes and closed them. The air around her grew heavy, charged with invisible energy. The winds began to murmur, carrying fragments of the orcs' conversation to her ears.
"Dragon… stench of fire…"
Sylvara frowned. They were indeed talking about Damaris. But why here? Why now? She had to act before they pushed farther toward the elven borders.
A sharp crack echoed under her foot—a twig snapping under her weight.
Silence fell over the orc camp.
Gorzak lifted his head, his nostrils flaring.
"Something," he growled, snatching up his axe in one smooth motion.
Krull and Varg dropped their spears, their yellow eyes scanning the darkness.
"There!" Varg roared.
Sylvara leapt from her hiding spot, her hands tracing arcs through the air.
"Irae!"
A sudden gust exploded around her, whipping up spirals of sand that blinded the orcs. The winds tore loose dead branches and sent shards of stone flying.
Krull, closest to her, stumbled back, shielding his face with his massive arms.
But Gorzak, the leader, planted his feet and his body flared with a red aura. His muscles swelled, and he roared, forcing back the storm.
"An elf!" Varg spat, leveling his spear at her before charging.
Sylvara sidestepped gracefully.
A razor-thin blade of wind sliced through the air toward Varg's chest. The orc, anticipating the strike, twisted at the last second, but the wind blade cut deep into his shoulder, ripping a pained snarl from him.
Blood splattered across the sand.
Krull charged next, spear in hand.
The winds condensed around Sylvara into a whirling shield. Krull's spear slammed into the barrier, cracking the elven magic.
Sylvara leapt back.
"Lacerans!"
Multiple wind blades shot forth like invisible arrows toward Krull.
The orc tried to block them with his spear, but they were too fast. One sliced his throat, another pierced his chest. Krull collapsed in a choking gurgle, blood soaking the sand.
Varg charged again, ignoring the pain in his wounded shoulder. He thrust his spear at Sylvara's heart.
She barely dodged, but the spear's tip cut across her hip. Elven blood, a silvery red, ran down her robe.
"You'll pay for that, witch!" Varg roared.
He channeled his Ki, his body vibrating, muscles tensing with supernatural speed. He hurled his spear like a javelin, and Sylvara, caught off guard by its velocity, summoned a wall of wind to deflect it.
But Gorzak, who had stood motionless until now, entered the fight. His Ki burst out in a shockwave, scattering the wind shield like a mere breeze. His axe came down with titanic force, aiming for Sylvara's head.
She rolled to the side, but the blade grazed her left arm, cutting deep into flesh and bone.
"Aaargh…"
Her arm hung useless, blood pouring freely. Sylvara gritted her teeth.
"Tempestas!"
A miniature storm exploded around her, hurling Gorzak and Varg several meters away. The howling winds kicked up pillars of sand, briefly obscuring vision.
Sylvara seized the opening. She hurled a dagger, guided by a thread of wind, straight into Varg's eye. The orc collapsed without a sound, dead before he hit the ground.
Gorzak, unharmed, rose again and smiled.
Sylvara, gasping for breath, clutched her wounded arm against her chest, her remaining dagger trembling in her right hand.
She tried to summon another spell, but Gorzak was faster. His Ki erupted in a wave of heat, and he charged, his axe carving a deadly arc. Sylvara called up a gust to slow him, but the orc chief cleaved through the wind as if it didn't exist. The blade came down on her already injured left arm—and this time, it severed it cleanly just below the shoulder.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"
Sylvara fell to her knees, the sand drinking her blood.
Gorzak stepped forward, his grin revealing sharp fangs.
"You're ours now."
He signaled to the surviving orc—a stocky warrior named Dren—who approached with a laugh, his gaze fixed on the weakened elf.
Sylvara, despite the agony, tried to rise, her right hand gripping her dagger. "You… what are you—"
Dren yanked the dagger from her hand in a single motion, tossing it aside. Gorzak knelt before her, his hot, foul breath brushing her face.
"Elves are so fragile," he sneered, seizing her chin to force her silver eyes to meet his. "But you'll do just fine."
Dren began loosening the straps of his armor, his excitement evident in his guttural growls. Sylvara tried to draw on the Flow, but the pain and blood loss made her magic erratic. The winds she summoned were weak, barely lifting the sand.
Gorzak laughed, grabbing her robe and tearing it open with a brutal motion, exposing pale skin and delicate curves. "Let's see what the elf has to offer."
His calloused hands clamped down on her hips.